


Time Off

by killingg_eve



Series: A Very Merry Kinktober 2020 [4]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, NSFW, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingg_eve/pseuds/killingg_eve
Summary: Villanelle creates some unexpected "time off" for Eve and gets punished.--Shoutouts to Lexus (@Voyager_Girl_J7) for telling me I should write spanking, last night. I wrote 7,020 words of spanking, as it would turn out . . .
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: A Very Merry Kinktober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959379
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm breaking this into parts for readability. 
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

Villanelle is home. Eve is _never_ home.

That’s not exactly true; Eve comes home between 6:50 and 7:15, every night. Sometimes she brings groceries, sometimes she brings takeout, and sometimes she brings neither.

Villanelle always leaps off the couch and pulls the door open before Eve can even turn her key, all the way. And then they have dinner—an exhausted Eve and a beaming, excited, practically vibrating Villanelle. Villanelle tells Eve all about the current season of whatever reality TV show she’s watching, and Eve listens, shoveling food into her mouth and trying to stay awake.

That’s just how it is.

Rather, that’s just how it is, till Villanelle decides that she wants _more_. _More_ of Eve . . .; _More Eve._

Villanelle starts to call MI6. She leaves complaints. She pushes every button on the menu until she finds a real human being, puts on her proper British accent, and tells them all about how Eve gives MI6’s biggest secrets away to her best friends.

_“She told me about the assassin girl.” “She told me about how Kenny’s death was linked to his perusing of specific transaction histories.” “She told me about how Frank was laid to rest in a designer dress.”_

She spits everything she knows to whoever will hear it, and where she’s unsure, she fills in the blanks with her best guess. If she can get Eve suspended, they will both have what they want: Eve will have some time off to not be so tired and boring, and Villanelle will have Eve’s lap to sit on for as many hours of the day as she wants. It’s a win-win.

\--

The day Eve gets sent home with a scary warning, Villanelle greets her with a strawberry cake.

“Eve, you’re home early!” she exclaims, pulling the door open and throwing her arms around a distressed—practically numb—Eve.

Eve only sighs and makes her way to the couch. How will she explain to Villanelle that she was suspended for sharing classified information? How will she tell Villanelle that if any of those pieces of information were based on current cases, she would have been fired instead of suspended?

“I had no idea you’d be home early, today, but I made you a cake!” Villanelle squeaks, following Eve to the sofa.

Eve sits and huffs, bringing her hands up to her face and rubbing over her eyes.

“I was suspended,” Eve chokes out.

“How come? You’re the best spy MI6 has ever had,” Villanelle says.

“Someone called my colleagues and my boss, claiming that I shared top secret information about _your_ case. That was three years ago! I didn’t even have friends to tell.”

“Do you think it was Niko?” Villanelle asks with the smuggest of smiles.

“I didn’t tell Niko shit. You know that. So, who is out to get me? What have I done to anyone to deserve this type of slander?”

Villanelle feels a pang of discomfort, but she knows Eve will be thrilled when she hears the truth.

“Ville, I don’t know what to do! How am I going to pay the rent, next month? How will I convince them that I didn’t share anything about your case with _anyone_?”

Eve’s stress starts to reach a peak and her eyes fill with tears. Her frustration and stress overwhelm her. She feels glad that she can confide in Villanelle, and she knows Villanelle supports her and understands that she would _never_ pass on classified information.

Villanelle holds up her act until she sees tears forming, and then she sees that it’s time to let Eve in on the surprise.

“Eve, guess what?” Villanelle asks, putting a hand on Eve’s shoulder.

“Wha—t?” Eve chokes out beneath the beginning of a sob.

Villanelle rubs her shoulder. “This is a surprise for you, Eve. I called your coworkers and told a couple of lies. I wanted to get you suspended so that you could have some days off with me. Now, you can relax! We can spend time together, all day, and I’ll finally see your pretty smile, again, because you won’t be so stressed and tired after work!”

Eve’s snaps up to look at her. Her cheeks are stained with tears and her hair is disheveled.

“. . . You did _what_ , Villanelle?”

“I made it so we can be together!” Villanelle smiles. “How many days do you have off, Eve?”

“Villanelle, that’s—” she huffs into the air between them as her anger starts to build. “That’s completely irresponsible and _wrong_. You shouldn’t have done that. I could have been _fired_. Do you understand what you’ve _done_?”

Villanelle’s face falls, finally. “Oh, um . . . I’m sorry, Eve. I won’t do it again. Not if it upsets you, like this.”

“Villanelle.” Eve has to steady herself and grasp her hands tightly together so she doesn’t lash out. “It’s not about the fact that I’m _upset_ , it’s about the _risks_ you took—risking my job, my apartment, my livelihood, my reputation . . . risking _everything_ so I could be at home with you. That’s so . . . so _selfish_ of you, don’t you think?”

Villanelle starts to come undone and wants to save herself and Eve from the heavy emotions. “Eve, I am sorry. I promise I won’t do it again. I didn’t think about it like that.”

“ _Villanelle_ , I—It’s not—You can’t just say—” Eve can hardly breathe through her rage. She takes a few moments of breathing and trying to find a way that she can make Villanelle understand. It doesn’t take her long to come to an idea.

“Villanelle,” Eve tries again, slightly more gently, “I think it’s time.”

“Time for what, E—” she gets cut off.

“—It’s time to punish you, Villanelle. To punish you properly and make you understand.”

The oxygen whooshes out of Villanelle’s lungs. She realizes that Eve wants to spank her, probably, and explain why she is so angry. Eve is hardly ever angry, so she sees there must be a gap in what she thinks and what Eve feels. And she trusts Eve—always, forever.

“You can punish me,” Villanelle says, while staring at the floor. Her voice is timid, but her decision is not.

Eve nods at her. “Very well, then.”


	2. Part 2

Eve sits up slightly straighter and takes a deep breath. “Go ahead and . . .” she hesitates; this is new. “Go ahead and bend over my lap,” she says. She leaves an inviting space for Villanelle to go.

Villanelle feels more afraid now than before—this is really happening. But she kneels onto the floor and then turns to Eve. She makes eye contact with Eve, and they pass some sort of understanding through their eye contact with a little nod, and she bends over Eve’s lap.

Villanelle notices the warmth and wishes that she could hug Eve and cuddle Eve. Maybe even if she could touch Eve. She feels safe and warm.

Eve gives three soft strokes to Villanelle’s head, feeling her hair and knowing that Villanelle is finding comfort on her lap. And then she switches modes and starts the process.

“Take your pants off,” she orders.

Villanelle does this immediately because it doesn’t feel new. She undoes the button and the zipper, then leans into Eve’s lap while she pulls the pants down and over her knees, dropping them behind her.

“Panties down,” Eve orders, with no space in between.

Villanelle squeaks and she hesitates. She realizes Eve is serious and that she shouldn’t ask any questions, right now. So she lets the moment pass and then she reaches behind and tugs her underwear down so that it rests right under her bottom cheeks.

Eve pushes them even further down so that she has room and so that they won’t ride up. And something comes over her when she realizes how easy it was and how pliable Villanelle is, beneath her . . . how willing and small.

Eve sighs and starts to rub Villanelle’s bottom cheeks to get her used to all of the feelings: the feeling of being bent over, the feeling of a hand on her bottom, the feeling of being lectured—which starts, now.

“You should not have done that, Villanelle. That was very bad. That was wrong and it causes me a lot of trouble,” Eve says. She keeps rubbing in little circles.

“I’m s—” Villanelle gets cut off.

Eve is firm. “—Don’t say it till . . .” (she softens), “. . . Don’t say it till you mean it.”

“Okay, Eve,” she says, defeated and reverent.

Eve spanks her once on her left cheek. It satisfies with a _pop_.

Then Eve says, “I want you to say, ‘ _Yes_ , Eve,’ instead of ‘ _Okay_.’”

“Yes, Eve,” Villanelle rushes out, without a fight.

Eve rubs a little at the spot she first smacked. She doesn’t want to give any praises because none are due, yet.

Eve doesn’t really know how all of this works, yet, so she decides that twenty reps should be enough, and that explaining the situation to Villanelle will also be enough.

“I’m going to give you twenty and explain my anger to you, okay?”

“Yes, Eve,” Villanelle says. Her eyes are closed. She holds onto Eve’s lap. She is prepared for it to hurt.

_Pop._

“You got me into trouble at my job.”

_Pop._

“It’s the same job that I got in trouble at because I fell in love with you.”

_Pop._

“They could have fired me, the moment I expressed interest in you, but they didn’t.”

_Pop._

“Now, I have multiple misdemeanors on my personal record.”

_Pop._

“I could lose my entire job—my entire career—if they change their mind about the suspension and choose to fire me.”

_Pop._

“And even if I get to stay, that means I will spend the rest of my life proving that I didn’t share any confidential information, that it was fate for me to fall in love with you, and that I’m all around—”

_Pop._

“—That I’m all around a _good person_ who deserves to be there.”

_Pop._

“The _rest of my life_. I have to _prove_ that I can do the bare minimum.”

_Pop._

“And who says that I stand a chance of doing more advanced things, after this entire shitshow? After marrying you and losing Kenny and losing Niko and having these lies told about me?”

_Pop._

“Do you understand that even though _we_ see things a certain way, _they_ see things in a completely different way, and I look _really, really bad_ to them?”

_Pop._

And then there’s a pause.

_Pop._

“That was a question, Villanelle!” she yells out.

“YES, EVE!” Villanelle replies, a beat later.

_Pop._

“Repeat it back to me.”

Villanelle hesitates because she thinks another one is coming.

Eve doesn’t hear a response from her. The next smack she delivers is harder.

_Pop._

“OKAY! Okay. Um, I got you in massive trouble at your job, and the whole reason you even have issues at your job is because of me. Because you loved me and chose me. And I betrayed you because I called them and told them lies, and now your job is going to be really hard . . . er . . . it’s going to be _harder_ than hard.”

Eve values the attempt but it’s all . . . _wrong_.

Eve stops spanking, for a moment, opting to rub at the sore spots while she clarifies. She realizes her word choice is everything and that Villanelle twisted some of the meaning, even though she thought she was being clear.

“Villanelle, I _chose_ you. _I love you_. That was my choice, that was our . . . our _destiny_. But since I made that choice, and since _we_ made that choice, I have to be well-behaved. And I have been trying really hard for them. I don’t take any liberties—I don’t clock out early and I don’t break any rules, even the smallest ones. I do everything I can to prove that I’m still an asset to them. So, really, your actions jeopardized everything I’m trying to sustain. And more. It jeopardizes our trust, my finances, possibly my apartment, . . . and so on.”

Villanelle nods into her lap and listens. She appreciates that Eve doesn’t regret choosing her and taking that risk. She’s glad it’s not her own fault that Eve loves her. And she realizes she might have gotten that part wrong, the first time.

“Okay, Villanelle,” she says gently, “Let me ask you again. So what are the consequences to your actions?”

“Even if they keep you, you will have to prove that their choice is worthwhile. And even before then, you had to prove it.”

Eve rubs. “Okay . . . what else?” And then, “That’s a good start, Villanelle.” More rubbing.

“If you lose your job, you would lose your money for this apartment.”

“ . . . Mkay. Anything else?” Eve already gave her a laundry list of things she could lose. Was Villanelle listening and following, or just paying attention to the spanking and rubbing?

Villanelle hesitates for a long moment. “Uhhh . . . I don’t—”

_Pop._

“Do you remember the part about my career and the rent and livelihood, and . . . can you fill in some of the blanks and follow the trail of thoughts, even if I don’t explicitly say it?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, Eve. Yes, this is also about your career. I said the part about the rent already—”

_Pop._

She’s so close to twenty that she just finishes it off.

_Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop._

Villanelle’s bottom is a rosy pink, and she shivers with surprise about the last few spanks and how quick they were, and how hard they were, and the warm sensation on her bottom. The last one stung.

Eve sighs and feels a little defeated. Maybe this didn’t work as well as she wanted. She isn’t sure if Villanelle totally understands, but she thinks an improvement was made.

“How are you feeling?” Eve asks her.

“I think I am okay, Eve. It stings a little. I am very sorry for the trouble I caused you at MI6.”

Eve goes back to the rubbing. She rubs Villanelle’s upper-back with her other hand, too.

Villanelle practically purrs under the touch. She gets comfortable and starts to talk to Eve, more.

“That felt kind of good, Eve.”

Eve lifts her hands in shock and surprise and then puts them back down. She’ll see where this leads.

“I . . . I was wondering if you want to touch me, now.” Villanelle turns her face to look up at Eve, still bent over. “I’m very . . . I’m very ready for you.” She raises her eyebrows and smiles a little bit.

Eve doesn’t want to encourage her because this is all going so wrong. But she entertains Villanelle for a moment. And soon, Villanelle will understand _everything_.

Villanelle wiggles her bottom for effect and laughs a little. “Please?” she asks. So inviting.

Eve humors her by reaching below and rubbing two fingers through her slick heat. She _is_ pretty wet.

Villanelle lets out a small moan. “Will you go higher, Eve?”

Eve goes higher.

“Will you go lower, Eve?”

Eve goes lower.

“Ahh, right there, Eve. That feels so good.” She lowers herself over Eve’s hand and grinds against her fingers, a little.

A few pleasured sounds escape and then she says, “I’m going to make you breakfast, tomorrow, to apologize.”

“You . . . What?” Eve asks.

“I’m gonn— _fuck_ —I’m gonna make you some breakfast and then we will be . . . how do you say. ‘Squared up?’”

Eve flicks at her clit a little bit, the exact way that she knows Villanelle likes it.

“’Squared away,’ you mean?” Eve suggests.

“ _FUCK_. Yes, Eve, yes. We will be even.”

Eve removes her fingers. She presents them before Villanelle’s mouth.

Villanelle is upset that Eve stopped, but greedily takes the fingers into her mouth and cleans each one.

“You think that you can make me breakfast, and then we will be even?” Eve asks, to clarify, while Villanelle sucks and licks.

“Mhm,” Villanelle says. She loves the taste of herself.

“You think . . . you can make me waffles and a plate of bacon to share, and then we will be _even_?” Eve asks, taking her well-cleaned hand and setting it on top of Villanelle’s back to rest.

“Bacon fixes everything,” she says, thinking of Amsterdam and licking her lips.

Eve takes a long silence. A contemplative silence. She realizes that twenty spanks were not enough, that the rosy pink was not enough, and that Villanelle thinks this is a game. Villanelle thinks this is a sexy game where she gets off and gets touched. And the part about breakfast seals her fear that Villanelle _really, really_ does not understand the gravity of the situation, regardless of the puzzle pieces that she put together during the spanking.

“Sweetie, will you do me a favor?” Eve asks.

“Yes, Eve.” God, obedience feels so good. She loves it. She’s so good at it.

“There was a package that came, yesterday. It’s a small box . . . about this long,” she holds her hands less than a foot apart. “Will you please go get that box from my office and bring it over?”

“Yes, Eve!” She’s so _good_ at this. She’s a whole new person, practically.

“Thank you.” Eve slides her panties back up over her bottom so she can get up.

Villanelle winces. “Eve! Be careful.” She smirks. “I just got _spanked_ . . . it’s a little _tender_?” she exaggerates and hopes Eve can sympathize with her, since she sympathized with Eve, so well, before.

Eve squints her eyes and nods at Villanelle, pretending she’s not getting more and more irritated.

Villanelle gets up and goes to the office. She finds the box on the end of the desk. She hopes that it is a dildo or a harness or a bottle of lube. She thinks that Eve is going to fuck her senseless, now that she was so well-behaved during the spanking, coming to new realizations, and all.

She picks up the box and is surprised at how lightweight it is. _Okay_ , she thinks, _maybe it’s one of those little bullet vibrators! That would be fun._ She smiles with delight and practically skips back to the living room with the box in her hands.

Eve sees her gleeful girl coming back into the living room.

“Oh—will you go to the kitchen and open it, too?” Eve asks with a patient smile.

Villanelle redirects herself towards the kitchen.

“Cut away from yourself, please!” Eve hollers, at the last second.

Villanelle retrieves scissors from the kitchen drawer and cuts into the box. She is so excited for whatever toy is going to fall into her hands. She is so ready for Eve that the wetness from before is already building up in her underwear, becoming more and more slick.

She pulls the flaps of the box apart and sees some plain tissue paper in it. She digs underneath the paper and almost squeaks with excitement as she reveals what’s underneath—and oh.

_Oh_. A wooden paddle is what she pulls out of the box.

That explains why it was so lightweight, and why Eve’s words and expressions were so . . . blank.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting Villanelle to become so sad and angsty, throughout this process, but I've gotta embrace whatever she does.
> 
> Hope you all are enjoying. <3

Villanelle stares at the paddle. Her entire body flushes with fear because she realizes she’s not done being spanked, even though she thought she made it through and she thought she was going to be touched now, and that Eve would forgive her, now, since she apologized for causing trouble at Eve’s job.

“Villanelle?” Eve calls. “Please bring it over here.”

The fear grows impossibly big and she feels tempted to break the paddle over her knee and run out the door. Oh—but she’s in her underwear. Well, it doesn’t really matter! She could hide behind a tree, she thinks. She could find or steal some pants. She could start a whole new life.

“Villanelle!! Come here!”

Villanelle suddenly feels hopeless because she realizes that there’s practically no way out of this. She doesn’t _really_ want to run away from Eve, even though she’s scared. She just wants Eve to be _happy_ with her. That’s an entirely different thing. And she starts to think that even if she broke the wooden paddle, that maybe Eve would order something even bigger and harder to spank her with. Maybe Eve would order a _stainless steel_ paddle or something, and things would only get worse and worse and worse for her, if she does not submit to the present situation.

“Villanelle, I swear to god. Just bring the paddle over here.” (Eve is so tired and frustrated.)

Villanelle hears the part about “swearing to god’ and she gets a little more scared and seriously wonders if Eve is going to order a stainless steel paddle, so she comes out from the kitchen and makes eye contact with Eve from across the room.

Villanelle’s eyes well with tears when she sees Eve. She hugs the wall for support.

“Baby,” Eve sighs. She sees how afraid and small Villanelle looks.

Villanelle just wants to be called “baby” again, and she wants the whole day to be over. And she wants Eve to go back to work, because at least then she wouldn’t have ever become this mad.

Villanelle puts her forehead against the dividing wall and she hugs onto that section of the wall for support, and she starts to cry.

She begs Eve with any words she can form. “Please don’t—Eve I can’t—I don’t think I—Eve I’m sorry! Please don’t do this!” She sobs into the wall.

Eve outstretches her arms. “Come here, baby.” She beckons with both of her hands. “Come sit on my lap and talk to me, please.”

Villanelle is scared to pieces, but she wants to sit on Eve’s lap.

So, she goes over. She sets the paddle down on the coffee table. She straddles Eve’s lap and puts her arms around Eve’s neck and hugs tightly, like her life depends on it. She lets slow tears fall onto Eve’s shoulder.

Eve sighs and holds onto Villanelle. She doesn’t want to scare Villanelle this badly, but she needs another chance at making Villanelle understand the gravity of her actions. She doesn’t want anything like this to happen again. She doesn’t want their relationship to suffer if Villanelle can’t grasp what’s wrong with pulling this type of stunt. She figures explaining this would be a good place to start.

“Ville, I still don’t think you understand the issue. You don’t understand the risks. This is really important and really bad. I don’t want you to do anything like this again because I don’t want it to threaten the love that we have for each other. If I can’t trust you, I can’t have you and love you. I need to get you on board. Does that make sense?”

Villanelle lets out a shaky sob into her shoulder. “Yes, Eve,” she says, and the words muffle through fabric.

“I want to try—I want to punish you better so you’ll understand. So we can stay together like we’ve always wanted, okay?”

Villanelle lifts up and looks at Eve, tears stinging her eyes.

“Don’t leave me!” she begs, mere centimeters from Eve’s face.

“I’m not ever going to leave you.” Eve cups her face with both hands. She searches Villanelle’s eyes. “I’m not leaving, only punishing and explaining.”

Villanelle can’t help herself from wailing. She forces the words out in spite of sobs. She makes sure each word is understood. “Even—Even if I don’t understand, at the end! Even if I _try_ and I still don’t understand! Please don’t leave me!!”

Eve kisses her deeply and isn’t upset that Villanelle is too distressed to kiss back.

“Okay. Okay, Villanelle, yes, I see. I won’t leave you, even if you can’t understand it, in the end. But I really believe you _will_ understand.” She speaks firmly and with abundant sympathy.

Villanelle shudders out a sob she was holding because Eve has faith in her. If Eve believes that she will understand, then she, too, has faith.

“I love you,” Villanelle says with a croak in her voice. “I—I—I hope you never stop loving me.”

Eve knows that Villanelle needs this reassurance, sometimes. She hopes that one day, Villanelle will feel so secure that she doesn’t need to seek confirmation, like this.

“I love you, too. I will never stop loving you.” Eve kisses her forehead and her tear-stained cheeks. She wraps her arms around Villanelle and holds her close, for a few minutes.

When the time passes, she asks Villanelle, “Do you think you’re ready to go back over my lap?”

Villanelle squeezes her arms around Eve but doesn’t hesitate. She hopes she can come back to this position, when it is all over.

“Yes, Eve.”

Villanelle goes back towards the floor. She grabs the paddle off of the table and passes her hand over it, wondering how much it will hurt.

Eve puts her hand out and Villanelle hands the paddle to her.

“Come back up onto the couch, instead of on the floor,” Eve offers. She is gentle.

Villanelle lays across Eve’s lap on the couch. It’s definitely better than the floor. Eve feels closer, somehow.

“You ready?” Eve asks. “Let’s try this again.”

Villanelle nods and then adds a “Yes, Eve,” just to be safe.

“What’s your favorite type of bear?” Eve asks.

“Huh?” and then, “I like panda bears, Eve. They are very fat and they seem very lazy.”

Eve nods. “Okay. ‘Panda’ can be your safeword. Say ‘Panda’ if you need me to immediately stop everything. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, Eve. Thank you.” Villanelle feels that much safer.

“I’m going to hit once so that you’ll know what it feels like, okay?”

“Yes, Eve.”

_Thwack_.

It stings Villanelle and she wriggles on Eve’s lap, crying out more because of the surprise than the actual feeling.

Eve rubs that spot, which is already pink.

Eve taps the paddle over the other cheek in steady, soft motions.

“How much do you think I make at MI6, Villanelle?”

“Um…2,000?” Villanelle asks.

_Tap. Tap._

“It’s more than that.”

“4,000?”

“Less.”

“2500?”

“Yes,” Eve responds.

_Tap. Tap._

“And . . . how much do you think my rent is?”

“For this place? Maybe 500.”

_Thwack_.

“OW!” she cries.

“You don’t think this apartment is that dumpy, do you?” Eve asks.

“No, Eve! Let me think.”

_Tap._

“I think it’s 700,” Villanelle tries again.

“Good!” Eve says. It is between 700 and 800, so that is close. “And how much do you think my other bills cost? Well—how about, for starters, what are my other bills?”

_Tap. Tap._

“The electricity. The gas. Water. Your phone.” Villanelle can’t think of anything else.

_Tap._

“Can you think of any others?”

“No, Eve. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Eve offers. “What types of expenses are relevant to Niko?”

“Niko is gone, Eve. I don’t know. I don’t spare any thoughts for the Moustache.”

_Thwack, Thwack,_ on both cheeks.

Villanelle cries out.

Eve explains, “Even if I don’t _want_ to think about Niko, I have to, Villanelle.”

“Okay—yes, Eve.”

“I have to pay off hospital bills. I have to pay things related to our house. I have to pay the psychiatric facility.”

“That sucks, Eve.”

_Thwack._

“It doesn’t just ‘suck.’ It’s really expensive. Do you know why I have to pay those?”

_Tap._

Villanelle winces at the tapping. “Because Niko is really sensitive and he needed some help.”

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

Villanelle cries out as it feels like a thousand sparks light up her bottom.

“He needed the care because a certain . . . _assassin_ . . . traumatized him. And because your boss, Dasha, stabbed a pitchfork through his neck.”

“Dasha’s actions aren’t my fault!” Villanelle argues.

_Thwack. Thwack_.

“He never would have been in that kind of danger if not for you,” Eve explains.

“Eve, . . . you said you love me and you chose me, right?”

“Of course, baby. Always. But these are just the facts. These are the expenses I have to pay, regardless, do you understand?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, Eve. I understand that you have to pay them, regardless of the situation.”

“ _Good girl_ ,” Eve offers, for the very first time.

Eve rubs for a minute and revels in the success of having Villanelle understand that she has to pay for Niko’s bills, even if she doesn’t necessarily want to, and even if everything happened years ago.

“How much do you think I have leftover?” Eve asks.

_Tap._

“I think 200 or 300, Eve. You buy me spaghetti on Saturdays. It’s very nice.”

_Thwack_.

“I have 100 left over. Sometimes slightly more, sometimes less.” Eve explains.

“Oh.”

“Yes, _oh_ ,” Eve says.

“That’s not a lot, Eve. How do you make it?” Villanelle asks. She is genuinely curious because she made a lot of money as an assassin and always had a surplus of funds. She usually went shopping with as much of it as she wanted.

“I live paycheck to paycheck.”

“Oh, Eve. I’m s—”

_Thwack._

“Don’t apologize. That’s not what this is about. But I need my job, you see? I need to be good at my job. It would be even better if I could climb the ranks at my job . . .”

“Yes, Eve. You’re the best spy. You deserve to climb.” Villanelle is sincere.

Eve rubs a little bit. Then continues.

“How much did you make for each kill?” Eve asks.

“10,000 for each one,” Villanelle states with no hesitation.

“Jesus—wow!” Eve exclaims. “Holy—how many kills did you do each week?!”

“I did at least three per week.”

“Have you never lived paycheck to paycheck?” Eve asks.

“No, Eve. Never. I was really lucky, I know . . . I was really lucky and I don’t take it for granted.” She winces and wonders if she’ll be hit for being wealthy, in that way.

“I—I was just curious. Thank you, Villanelle.” Eve rubs her bottom.

Villanelle is surprised that there is rubbing instead of hitting. She wonders if she and Eve are closer because of this discussion.

“Villanelle, what do you think I would be if I wasn’t a spy?” Eve asks.

_Tap. Tap_.

“Eve, you are incredible. You could do anything you wanted!”

_Thwack_.

“It’s not that simple. I studied forensic psychology. I can’t be _anything_ , Villanelle, I can only be a few different things.”

Villanelle nods and lets the sting dampen.

Eve continues. “I’m in my field. And everyone is really close. So if I ruined my reputation at my job, then they could tell everyone else to steer clear of me. And then I wouldn’t have a job in my field at all.”

“Oh. You wouldn’t be able to work anymore?” Villanelle asks.

“Yes. I would probably have to work at a grocery store or a restaurant.”

“That would be so . . . you’re _Eve_. You deserve a fancier job than that.”

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

“Don’t say that. Don’t talk about other people’s jobs like that! That’s not—we are not _above_ them, Villanelle.”

“I’m sorry, Eve!” she squeaks through the pain.

“Think about it again, Villanelle. What would be wrong if I worked at a grocery store or a restaurant?”

A lightbulb flickers on in her head. “You wouldn’t be able to pay your rent and all your bills! They would pay you less than what you make now!” Villanelle shouts out, immediately.

“Good girl! Wonderful girl,” Eve purrs. “That is very good. I am really impressed with you, Ville. That’s the perfect answer.” Eve rubs while she talks, and feels Villanelle soften beneath her, melting into her lap.

Eve sighs with relief because she thinks Villanelle is ready to take all of the pieces and put them together.

“Baby, tell me again what was wrong with the accusations that you told my workplace.”

Villanelle thinks long and hard.

“I . . . I put your job on the line.” Villanelle starts to cry because the sentence holds a thousand tiny pieces, and every single one matters. She wonders if this is what Eve was saying during the first spanking, but she just didn’t understand everything underneath the statement.

_Tap. Tap._

“Wait, Eve, I’m not done. There’s so much I want to say to you!”

Eve holds the paddle but keeps it away from Villanelle.

“I put your job at risk, which means that I put your finances at risk. If you lost your job, you couldn’t pay for your apartment, nor could you pay for Niko’s bills and the house you used to live in. You would get a bad reputation and your coworkers would tell everyone that you weren’t hirable. And then you would have very limited job options, and those wouldn’t cover your expenses. And the only reason your life is so expensive is because of me! Because you chased after me and I killed Gemma, which traumatized Niko, which put him into psychiatric care. And Dasha stabbed him because she knew I cared about _you_. And now you’re stuck with the hospital bills! And you can only pay the bare minimum, which is why you have been paying them for years.”

Villanelle starts to cry harder and harder and harder. The fabric of the couch darkens with tears. She shakes against Eve’s lap—naked and vulnerable and bright red on her bottom. But all she cares about is Eve and holding Eve’s lap while she says everything she needs.

“I’m not done! Hang on!” Villanelle sobs.

“You only—you only have a small budget, and you use it to buy me spaghetti! You use it to buy cable so I can watch TV while you’re at work!”

Villanelle gets it. And she can’t stop herself from shaking and crying.

“Eve!! You come home so tired— _exhausted_ because of work, because you have to be _perfect_ for them because of everything that’s happened. You can’t come home early, even if you wanted, because they would fire you easier than others. So you come home to me, all tired and worn down, and you do it again and again and again! And I got you suspended from your job, creating even more pressure and more reason for them to fire you!”

Villanelle leans back on her knees and buries her face into Eve’s lap, bowing down to her, reverently.

“I’m so sorry, Eve! I didn’t consider all of the risk factors. I acted selfishly! I didn’t think about how you feel or what you go through, every day. I don’t know how you can ever forgive me! I’m so sorry, Eve. I’m really, really sorry.”

Eve feels like the apology is more than enough—more than she ever expected. The words hit her so deep, and the sincere appreciation and understanding that Villanelle shows her melts her heart. She especially loves how Villanelle sees that every spare thought and spare dollar is put towards her—out of love. She thinks that Villanelle appreciated everything she was given, before, but now she understands it as something deeper, like a true gift and a true sacrifice.

“Baby,” Eve whispers. She wraps one arm under Villanelle’s chest, and the other goes around her back, like the closest thing she can give to a hug. “Baby, I forgive you. Of course I can forgive you.”

Villanelle’s arm goes to find Eve’s hand, near her torso. She grasps on as best as she can and squeezes.

“Come here,” Eve whispers. She tries to turn Villanelle onto her side, towards herself.

Villanelle turns and finds Eve’s stomach. She buries her face into it and cries.

“I’ll understand if you ask me to leave you,” Villanelle breathes into her stomach, through sobs.

She hugs Villanelle into her stomach, since that’s where she wants to be. “Baby, no. I never want you to leave. Your apology means so much to me. You were so good . . . you understand everything, now. I’m so thankful. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m sorry, Eve, I shouldn’t have done something so . . . reckless.”

Eve does what it takes to pull Villanelle up guiding her to straddle her lap again, yet careful not to have her sit on anything because it would sting terribly.

“I forgive you, baby. That’s all I wanted to hear. You said even more than I expected—you . . . you understand that I put the rest of my budget towards you because I love you.”

“Yes. Thank you, Eve. I love you!”

She rubs Villanelle’s back. She presses Villanelle’s face into her shoulder. “I do it because I love you. I do _everything_ because I love you. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Ever.”

Villanelle repeats herself in a whisper. “Thank you, Eve. I love you.”

Eve just hums in appreciation and finally smiles, but then she notices that Villanelle is straddling her and sitting up against her pants . . . and she’s naked. And Eve wonders if she’s wet.

“L—Let me touch you, now,” Eve offers. That’s how this goes, right?

Villanelle doesn’t move from her shoulder. “I don’t know if I deser—” She gets cut off by a soft hand stroking her seam. She gasps at the contact and looks down in shock as Eve’s hand explores her.

Eve starts to circle her clit, almost immediately, because she’s still wet—maybe from earlier, before all the tears.

She moans Eve’s name with a whisper and grinds down on the hand that’s pleasuring her. She holds herself upright with her arms around Eve’s shoulders.

“You were really good, so let me take care of you,” Eve husks like it’s a fact.

Villanelle only groans. Eve’s hand seems to feel even better than usual. She quickly becomes even more wet, and she blushes when Eve’s eyes trail all over her and notice how weak and needy she is becoming. She feels vulnerable under Eve’s eyes.

The pleasure comes to a halt when Villanelle’s bottom meets the fabric of Eve’s trousers. The itchy fabric of her pants feels horribly painful against her bright, bright red bottom. She cries out in pain and stops grinding.

Eve stops moving her hand and gasps with sympathy. She’s never heard Villanelle whimper in pain, before, but she never wants to hear it again.

“Come up here, then,” Eve says, gently. She leads Villanelle to stand on the couch and oh—

\--Oh. Villanelle gets it. She’s hovering just above Eve’s face.

Eve takes a tentative lick.

Villanelle shivers because it feels so good and soft, and her bottom hurts so badly.

Eve holds onto her thighs and starts to lick and lick and _lick_. She flicks Villanelle’s clit and also sucks, from time to time.

Villanelle cries and moans in succession, holding onto the couch cushions and focusing on keeping herself at the right height for Eve’s perfect mouth.

When Villanelle gets close, she says, “Eve, I’m still really sorry— _ahh!_ —I’m sorry you have to deal with me.” Her eyes flutter closed because of everything Eve is doing.

Eve reaches one hand around and delivers one hard slap to her bottom, knowing fully well how sensitive it is. Then puts the hand back on Villanelle’s thigh and brings her over the edge.

Villanelle comes against Eve’s mouth with a series of high pitched moans and barely-recognizable curse words. It feels so good for her to be taken care of instead of spanked.

Villanelle kneels over Eve’s lap again and hugs Eve as closely, tightly, and intentionally as she can. She’s careful to keep her bottom far away from any of the surfaces around her.

Eve hugs Villanelle and kisses her, giving Villanelle a taste of herself. She feels truly at-home with Villanelle in her lap.

“Ville, do you know why I spanked you during that?” Eve asks.

“No, Eve, please tell me why,” Villanelle says. She is listening closely.

“Because you said I had to ‘deal with you,’” she explains. “It’s not like that. I love you forever. I am so lucky to have you. You’re the best, and I chased you across the globe for a reason.”

There’s a pause and Villanelle kisses her, then goes back to listening.

“—For a lot of reasons, actually. I wanted you so bad. I love you so much. So please never . . . say those types of things. Regardless of anything that happens, whether it’s this or something else.”

Villanelle nods and gives a couple more kisses. “Do you think this is the worst thing I’ve ever done?”

Eve has to laugh. “It’s pretty bad!”

Villanelle laughs, too, at her own mischief. Then she is quiet for a long moment. (Thinking, planning.)

“Eve, I’ll . . . I’ll call Carolyn and explain that all of this is my fault! I’ll prove that I was the one calling. And then maybe you can go back to work after the weekend, on Monday!” Villanelle is so pleased with her idea, and she thinks Eve will be, too.

“Oh, um. I would love that, Villanelle. But I—actually—there’s—I’m off on Monday.”

“You . . . You’re off on Monday?” Villanelle asks.

“Yeah, I’m off. It’s a government holiday.”

“OH, I . . .”

Eve just looks at her. “Yeah _. . ._ Mhm _. . . . . . . . ._ ‘ _Oh._ ’”

Villanelle looks like she couldn’t hear anything more surprising. She looks like she has it all wrong, like maybe if she _asked questions_ instead of inciting chaos, life would be a little bit easier for everyone.

“Oh,” Villanelle whispers again.


End file.
